Escape
by starish6
Summary: (Rated M for language and later chapters.)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, sooo...I'm mostly just doing this for my friends, but also because I ship Minho and Thomas so freaking hard! I don't know if this will be good or not, but I'm definitely gonna continue it! It'll have 3-5 chapters at most. **

**Also, this starts off and takes place when Minho and Thomas go to section 7. Some things are similar to the actual story, but I changed most of it.**

**Enjoy, you guys! :D**

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"Big day, Greenie. Sure you don't wanna sit it out?"

Thomas looked up from the ground of the pit to lock eyes with a smirking Minho, and was unable to hold back a smile. "Just get me out of here, man."

As soon as they'd packed up and gotten ready, they made their way to stand in front of the gate. "Having second thoughts?" asked the Asian male, the smirk never leaving his face.

"No way," Thomas replied instantly, though he couldn't deny the fact that his hands were slightly trembling. It was probably from the excitement he was feeling, or the rush of adrenaline through his veins at the mere thought of entering the maze again. He narrowed his eyes once the passageway began to open, sending a large, powerful gust of wind in their direction.

"Let's go!" exclaimed the boy beside him, taking off in a sudden sprint.

The brunet almost yelled at him to wait up, but thought better of it as he began running right after the boy, following his every step as he effortlessly maneuvered through the maze. Thomas remembered Minho telling him about how he'd run every inch of it, how he'd made a miniature model of the entire damn thing. It was amazing how he'd seen everything.

Maybe that was why Minho was one of the top runners. All the other boys back at the Glade seemed to respect him. They were scared - they counted on him and the rest of the runners to scour the maze every day, to search for an exit, to find the path to freedom. But how could they dump all that responsibility, all that faith, all that trust, onto just a small group of boys? Who's to say they wouldn't have escaped the maze themselves, had they ever found a way out? Gally was right, in a sense. If the Gladers couldn't trust each other, then they had nothing left. Teamwork was what kept everyone together.

Thomas couldn't help but think about how built Minho was, considering he was able to run all day without breaking so much as a sweat. But maybe that was because his body had been forced to get used to it; he'd been running for over a year, after all, and his life depended on it. In terms of how a runner should be, he fit the criterion just about perfectly. He had the ideal frame, the strong legs, and the flawless posture. His shoulders were relaxed as he ran, the rest of his body moving in precise coordination with his legs.

"Hey, Greenie!" called Minho's voice all of a sudden, making Thomas snap back into reality to find the former running backwards, facing him with a somewhat curious expression. "You alright there?"

Thomas felt his face heat up, but chose to ignore it and continued to run, adding a bit more speed to his legs. "Fine," he mumbled, running ahead of Minho, who caught up to him in just a matter of seconds anyway.

"Sure you're okay? Too late to back out now, though."

"I'm not backing out from this," stated Thomas firmly, being as confident as he was. He kept his eyes forward, not wanting to be distracted from his goal any further.

"Glad to see you so enthusiastic."

The brunet ignored that comment and continued onwards, not once letting their destination escape his mind. Section 7. It was sure to be hiding some kind of big secret to getting out of the Glade, out of the maze, and he was determined to find it. He wasn't just going to sit back and let himself be trapped like a prisoner. Once he'd escape, he would search for W.C.K.D. and wipe them out.

"It's not supposed to be open today…," murmured the black-haired male, as the two of them stepped foot into section 7. There were exceedingly tall structures - known as blades - everywhere as far as the eye could see, practically reaching the height of the outer maze walls. The two boys were lost and confused, unsure of where to go, until there was a faint beeping noise.

Thomas heard it first, and recognized the source as the Griever's body part they'd managed to pull out the other day. He grabbed Minho by the shoulder and twisted him around, before fishing it out from his bag, eyes widening in awe at the device. "I think it's showing us where to go," he whispered, suddenly taking off into a random direction. And just like that, the two boys made their way through the endless land of blades, until they came upon a large passageway which seemed to open up into another one inside of it.

"You ever been here before?" asked Thomas, looking up at the ceiling as he walked in.

"Never," replied Minho bluntly, following in after him.

Thomas practically groaned in disappointment as they came to a dead end, but just when he was about to turn around, the red light on the Griever's device turned green, and the wall in front of him began to open up, revealing a path inside. The two boys exchanged momentary looks of skepticism, when a red light scanned them out of nowhere and a deafening alarm sounded right after, causing them to gape at the opening in shock. Thomas turned to Minho in hopes of receiving an explanation as to what was going on, but the latter simply snatched the Griever's device and made a run for it.

"Run, Greenie!"

Thomas didn't need to be told twice. His legs carried him forward as the maze exploded and roared, along with his heartbeat. The walls around them began to crumble, sending pieces of rock and debris into the air, before raining down like an irrepressible storm.

"The blades are closing! We're gonna be trapped!" Somehow in all of the commotion and destruction, Minho had managed to make it to the outer border of the blades.

Panic swept over the brunet, bringing along with it morose thoughts. He was so concentrated on the idea of what might happen should he be trapped inside, that - even while running with a large amount of vigor - he was unsure which direction he was headed in. He hadn't even noticed that his foot connected with an elevated, jagged surface until he was unexpectedly sent spiraling into the air and landed roughly against the ground with a sickening thud.

"Thomas!" bellowed a voice from far away, so worried and desperate, enticing the brunet to raise his head.

To both Thomas' dismay and immense relief, Minho had slipped back through the last blade into the inner border, just as it was about to close and separate the two boys. The maze fell into a state of complete and utter silence, having trapped its victims within.

Thomas stared up at the blades in disbelief, before trying to glance down at his ankle, which sent shockwaves of pain throughout his body when he tried to move it. With the way he'd crashed onto the floor head-first, he was pretty sure he'd cracked a part of his skull. Not to mention, he could feel something warm and sticky dripping down the left side of his forehead.

"Greenie, you okay?"

Honestly, did he _look_ okay? Lying down stomach-first on the cold and hard ground, unable to move? Thomas' head snapped up in the direction of the voice, anger suddenly taking over his emotions. "Why the hell didn't you leave? You could've escaped!"

Minho gave a low and throaty chuckle, before crouching down beside the brunet. "I couldn't leave you behind," he stated firmly, his face void of emotion. "Besides, look at the state of you. You'd practically be serving yourself to the Grievers on a silver platter."

"And now _you'll _be serving yourself alongside me."

The Asian male merely sighed and rolled the brunet over onto his back as he groaned in evident pain. He pulled the latter up into a sitting position and hooked an arm underneath each of his armpits, before dragging him toward the blades, allowing him to rest his back against one. "Did you get hurt somewhere either than your head?" asked Minho, removing his bag and extracting a cloth and water bottle from it. He unscrewed the bottle cap and wet the cloth slightly, before using it to dab at the blood on the brunet's forehead.

Thomas hissed in pain and reflexively turned his face away, gritting his teeth.

Minho closed his eyes for a bit as he continued dabbing, before reopening them. "Where else are you injured?"

"Twisted my right ankle, I think," muttered Thomas, motioning to it as it started to turn a strange shade of purple. He attempted to pull his leg up to his chest, but gave up halfway, letting it fall back down and crying out in anguish. "Okay, it's definitely twisted."

"Shit, Greenie. You hurt yourself pretty bad." The brunet ignored him and tried to get up, but Minho grabbed onto his arms and held him down. "You're not going anywhere."

"Damn it, Minho. We need to find a way out of here!"

The black-haired male got in front of him in a crouched position, grasping onto his shoulders and staring him hard in the eye. "There _is_ no way out of here. This is section 7, alright? Not a goddamn playground."

Thomas couldn't accept that. "So, what, we just sit here forever?"

"No, but we'll have to stay here overnight. We can't climb over the blades."

"But what if we tried to- -"

"Slim it, Greenie!" Minho interjected, his hold on the other male tightening. "For the sake of argument, let's say we _did_ climb to the top of the blades - which is impossible any way you look at it - but let's say we _did_, okay? Then what? We jump and fall down to our shucking deaths? Those things have to be taller than at least 50 meters."

Thomas frowned deeply, knowing that his fellow runner's point was damn right and wholly logical. It made him feel frustrated and helpless. How could they survive a night out here, exposed to the Grievers and bitter winds? What if Thomas' wounds got infected? What if they were stuck here for more than just one night? What if they starved to death?

"We're gonna be okay, Greenbean."

Thomas snapped out of his morbid thoughts to glance up at Minho, who was looking back at him with a certain determination in his eyes. The latter gave a smirk, that same annoying and cocky smirk he always wore. "What? Don't look at me like that, you creep," teased Thomas, feeling just slightly better.

"Sometimes you're such a klunk," retorted Minho, tilting his head to the side as he ran a hand through his hair. He sounded vaguely irritated, but the grin never left his face. He glanced down at Thomas' ankle, grimacing at the sight of it. "We should take care of that," he muttered, grabbing another cloth from his bag, before carefully wrapping it around the brunet's ankle, then placing a bundled up cloth underneath it for support. He looked up at the latter with a raised eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be thanking me?"

But Thomas was lost in his thoughts again. He tended to do that a lot, seeing as how there was always something on his mind. He couldn't help but keep thinking about what could happen to them overnight… Then again, maybe the blades would remain closed until the morning and the Grievers wouldn't pass through to where the two boys were. But that was just some highly unlikely-to-occur wishful thinking. He finally looked up at the black-haired male when he felt someone nudging his shoulder. "What? Oh, yeah, sorry. Thanks, man."

Minho sighed and fell back against the blade beside Thomas, lazily stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankles. "Get some rest, Greenie. You need it."

"No. What you and I both need is to find a way out of here and- -"

"If you think you're going anywhere with that shucked up ankle," murmured Minho, his voice low and dangerous, "You're more jacked up in the head than I thought."

Thomas groaned in irritation and laid his head back, looking up at the sky. "What if the maze starts changing again?" he asked, feeling curious and afraid at the same time. "When we're resting, I mean. We need to be prepared for anything that could happen."

The Asian male crossed his arms over his broad chest and nodded slowly, as if contemplating something in his mind. "Yeah, and we _will_ be. I'll stay awake, so if something happens, I'll be sure to wake you up. Now slim it and rest."

Thomas didn't argue; he was satisfied with what Minho said. Although he didn't want to admit it, exhaustion was overcoming him. Maybe everything would be alright and nothing bad would happen to them… Maybe they would survive the maze overnight. They already did it once, so why not again?

With that thought in his mind, Thomas laid his head back and closed his eyes, letting sleep embrace him.

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**I hope you guys liked it! Please leave a review if you feel like it.~ Until next time. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This. Took. Forever. To. Finish. **

**I blame it all on procrastination. OTL**

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"Wake up! Hey, wake up!"

The brunet groaned in irritation as he opened his eyes, rubbing them to dispel the blurriness from his vision. They landed on the boy in front of him, who was clearly panicked. Sleepiness left him in a second at the sight of the other's expression, replaced instead with an unpleasant feeling. "What's wrong?" he asked, hoping to God that everything was alright.

"The blades are opening," explained Minho, his eyes wide and frantic, though he had an otherwise calm exterior.

A nauseating sensation formed in the pit of Thomas' stomach, as several dangerous scenarios crossed his mind. He didn't have much time to react as the other boy was already pulling him up onto his feet. Thomas cried out hoarsely when he accidentally put too much weight onto his injured ankle.

"We have to _move_," asserted Minho, wrapping an arm securely around the brunet's waist to support him, before placing one of the latter's arms around his own neck. He dragged him along as they went, heading toward the blades that were beginning to open up in front of them.

"Minho, stop going so fast!" howled Thomas, his expression contorting into one of distress due to the constant stinging and throbbing in his ankle. "It's killing me, damn it!"

"Come on," urged the Asian male, his voice sympathetic but firm, as he forced the brunet to keep up with him. "You can't give up, Greenie. We're almost there."

Thomas breathed a sigh of relief as soon as they reached the outer border. It was unusually quiet again, and that's what was making him jumpy. Complete and utter silence was far more frightening than any noise the maze could produce. "There's not even a single Griever…"

"Do you _want_ there to be one?" snapped Minho, pulling the other boy along.

"It's just strange, is all."

"Yeah, well, we ain't just gonna stand here and wait for the slintheads to get us."

The two of them continued on in silence, moving as quickly as was possible with the brunet's messed up ankle. The quietness was starting to bother him, so he finally spoke up. "You could've left me…"

"Again with that, Greenie?" Minho spat, clearly not amused. "You practically gave your life for me and Alby just the other day. And you didn't have to shucking do that, but you did anyway, because you're a stupid shank, you little piece of klunk."

"Alright, alright, I get the point."

"But you were still brave enough to risk your life," continued the black-haired male, his expression unreadable. "And I admire that, to say the least. You're not as stupid as you look."

"Thank you, _shuck-face_." Thomas spat out the last word, somehow enjoying how foreign it felt on his tongue as he spoke it for the first time.

Minho paused and stared at the brunet's eyes with a proud look in his own, before shaking his head a bit and continuing onward. This time the boys remained completely silent as they trudged forward, keeping their eyes peeled as they searched for a way out. The atmosphere around them couldn't get more uncanny and awkward than it already was.

All of a sudden, a deafening inhuman screech sounded through the maze, seemingly shaking its walls. The Asian male jerked his head toward the other boy, who was staring at him with his eyebrows knit together in alarm.

"Was that a…Griever?" asked Thomas quietly, his back breaking out in cold sweat. His hands began to shake as he wondered what would become of him; with his ankle in its poor condition, he wouldn't be able to get very far.

"We gotta move fast, Greenie, and we gotta move now." It was all Minho said before forcibly pulling the brunet along with him, trying his best to ignore the small cries of pain he gave out every few moments. If they couldn't escape until morning came, they at least needed to find a place to hide out for the night, or else they'd fall prey to the Grievers. Minho pulled the other boy around a corner and sat him down, before going to check the vicinity for any sign of a Griever. "Son of a…shucking…" His voice trailed off as he halted in terror, eyes focusing on the menacing creature as it rapidly turned to face his direction. Minho instantly went over to Thomas and pushed him down so he was laying flat on the ground.

"Hey, what are you- -"

The black-haired male simply rolled Thomas over onto his side and against the wall, covering him with the hanging vines and foliage. "Griever," he explained quickly. "Stay here and don't make a sound, Greenie. I'll be back."

To Thomas' dread, Minho suddenly took off in a random direction and turned a corner to hide somewhere, leaving him completely alone. Now what was he supposed to do if the Griever found him? He couldn't run away with his ankle in its awful state. Would he have to give up and go down without a fight? And the other boy - would he be able to survive, running around aimlessly in the dark? Would he even make it back?

Thomas was forced out of his thoughts as a deafening thump rang out nearby, alerting his senses. "Now's not the time to freak out…," he murmured inaudibly, trying to stay calm. Through the gaps of the undergrowth, he was able to see the Griever make its way through the maze. The blood in his veins turned to ice as he realized it was headed in Minho's direction. He needed to do something to distract it, _any_thing!

As the Griever continued down the path Minho had taken, the brunet found his hand involuntarily grasping around a rough, jagged object; he brought it up to his face to see that it was a rock, and a sudden idea crossed his mind. He threw the rock against one of the walls, hoping to steer the Griever in a different direction, but the creature didn't even pause to look back. Thomas cursed under his breath and began to reach for another rock, but as he did so, a surge of pain shot through his injured ankle and caused him to accidentally cry out.

This action made the Griever jerk its head around, its hostile mechanical glare fixing upon the human hiding away in the foliage. With an abrupt wail it dashed forward and made its way to the brunet, who was frozen up in sheer horror. He curled up slightly and pressed his body against the wall, attempting and failing to disappear behind the vines. The predator had already seen him, and it was -without a doubt - going in for the kill.

Thomas felt his heart take off, threatening to rip out of his chest as his life flashed before his eyes. Was this the end? Was he going to die in a place like this?

This just couldn't be happening.

"OVER HERE!"

Thomas felt his throat close up at the familiar human voice, tempting him to peek out at where it came from. Sure enough, he saw Minho standing just meters away, with the Griever positioned in between the two boys. It chose the Asian male as its target and advanced in his direction, letting out an earsplitting shriek.

"Minho!" cried out Thomas, desperately wanting to be able to stand up and aid his fellow runner, but he couldn't even help himself.

"I know this place like the back of my hand!" yelled Minho in response - possibly to try and reassure the brunet - before scampering out of sight and away from the Griever, which ended up following in his footsteps anyway.

"No…" Thomas' voice was hoarse and weak with shock as he spoke, his hands trembling pointlessly. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as he somehow managed to sit upright and push aside the vines hanging before his face. But when he tried to stand up, his ankle failed in its function to support the right side of his body, and all the strength left his legs as he painfully fell back against the wall with a thud. "Damn it… Damn it, damn it, damn it!" This wasn't supposed to be happening at all. The two boys were meant to be back at the Glade a long time ago, sleeping or drinking or at least trying to enjoy themselves. Not this. This wasn't right at all.

He gave up trying to get up after several more futile efforts. Now he could only think negatively of what might happen to him. He was famished, terrified and shivering, injured and outright exhausted in general. Passing out and catching up on sleep suddenly didn't seem like such a bad idea. Maybe it would make all the pain and fatigue go away.

Or maybe it would kill him.

Thomas took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to stay awake as sleep threatened to plunge him into an alluring yet hazardous darkness. He groaned when his ankle began throbbing uncomfortably, probably from being moved around earlier on. When would this torture end?

"Alright, stop freaking out. Just calm down... Calm down…"

Just as his eyelids began to get heavy and shut closed, he felt large waves of vibrations pass through the floor, like something enormous was being shook. A thunderous and grating noise followed soon after, which Thomas guessed was being produced by the maze. And he was right; the maze was changing yet again. Its walls began shifting, sending pieces of rubble flying into the air in multiple directions as he tried to take cover from them.

As if things couldn't get any worse.

Thomas tried with difficulty to stand up once again, and finally succeeded by using one of the walls as his support. Where was Minho? Hopefully he was still alive and had managed to lure the Griever to elsewhere. But what would happen now that the maze was changing? The chances of the boys finding each other were slim, unless Minho knew exactly where to go and what to do - which simply sounded like wishful thinking. The brunet walked forward, keeping close to the walls as he used them for support.

Through the din of the maze, he heard a voice which he recognized instantly, unstable and frenzied. It called out to him, but he wasn't sure which direction it was coming from.

Then he saw him - a familiar black-haired boy - standing at the end of the path ahead. Relief instantly flooded his body and it was all he could do not to let his knees give out from beneath him. "Minho?" he asked carefully, afraid that whoever he was seeing may very well just have been an illusion or hallucination.

"Come here, Greenie," urged the other boy, his expression and voice filled with anxiety. "Come on."

And that was all Thomas needed to carry on. He quickened his pace and ignored the searing pain in his ankle, wanting nothing more than to reach Minho before the walls closed in on them, separating them and leaving them close to something like vulnerability.

A few more meters and he'd be able to get to the other male in time. The walls were starting to close in, leaving an increasingly narrow pathway to Minho. "Listen, Greenie. There's a Griever behind you, but don't freak out. Just get here!"

The brunet paused and began to turn around, when Minho's voice stopped him.

"Don't look!" he warned. "The walls are about to close!"

Thomas mentally reprimanded himself before trying to increase his speed, ignoring the shrill howling and screeching of the creature behind him. It was gaining in on him swiftly, but he was easily able to slip into the small passageway.

The Asian male firmly grabbed hold of Thomas' arms and pulled him forward just before the walls closed in on him, and the two of them fell back onto the ground clumsily. Minho broke the latter's fall as he landed right on top of him, causing them both to cry out in discomfort.

"Can…Can you get _off_?" groaned the black-haired male, panting and out of breath, clearly not amused by their current position.

"I'm kinda injured everywhere," grumbled Thomas, just as breathless, before hissing as his ankle stung for the umpteenth time.

"You alright, Greenie?"

Thomas rolled off of the other boy with whatever strength he had left, before scowling deeply. "I can't believe you're actually asking that."

Minho glanced at the brunet with a smirk, saying, "At least we know one thing."

"And what's that?"

"I was right again."

"About?"

"When I told you that we'd be okay. We're okay."

"Speak for yourself," muttered Thomas, letting out a deep sigh and closing his eyes. "Besides, you're forgetting one important point here, Minho."

"Oh?"

"We still have to get back to the Glade."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Shucking hell," cursed Minho, before unexpectedly laughing. "We're gonna be okay anyway, Greenbean. You've got me, after all."

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**Despite how long this took, it was seriously fun to write. **

**Until next time! ;D**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This was fun to write, but now I feel like I won't be able to write anything for the next five years.**

**Either way, enjoy! :D**

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"Remind me again why we're wandering about for no reason…?"

Minho let out a heavy sigh as if to try and calm himself down, before closing his eyes. "Told you already - we're finding a safe place to sleep," he answered, reopening them.

"Is the maze ever safe at night?" questioned Thomas, aware that he was beginning to irritate his fellow runner, but not giving a damn either way. It was pretty entertaining to see him annoyed.

"You ask too many shucking questions," grumbled Minho, shooting the brunet a playful glare. "We just survived a Griever attack, and I'm pretty sure _that_ wasn't safe." He walked ahead of him and collapsed, resting his back against the wall. "You gonna stand there and watch me all night, or come sit down here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow out of amusement.

Thomas resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he went to sit down, keeping an arm's length distance between him and the other boy. "…I hate this," he whined.

"Ankle bothering you, huh?"

"Even more than you are," snapped Thomas, cheekiness evident in his voice.

The Asian male whistled quietly and laid down, stretching out his legs. "Feisty newbie," he mumbled, placing his hands beneath his head. When he closed his eyes, he looked so relaxed and at peace that it seemed unfair to the other boy. How could he be so calm and unafraid?

The brunet rolled his eyes, unable to keep the scowl off his face. "You're not the one with a swollen ankle and possible brain damage," he pointed out.

"Brain damage?" muttered Minho with a grin, clearing his throat as he continued. "No difference there, then."

"Why do you have to be such a jerk?"

"Why do you have to be such a girl?"

"How am I being a girl?" cried Thomas indignantly.

"How am I being a jerk?"

Thomas threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. "That's it," he said, shaking his head a bit. "I've had it with you. You're conceited and intolerable."

"Those are some big words, Greenie," teased Minho with a chuckle, unmistakably enjoying this conversation.

Why did everything he say have to be so vexing? "I'll use small words next time so you'll be able to understand," retorted Thomas boldly, feeling a vague sense of triumph.

Minho whistled again before yawning, and then falling silent. It was a bit weird to see him all quiet, but the brunet definitely didn't mind.

Thomas stared at the boy beside him for a bit, before lying down as well, unable to keep in a groan due to his sore ankle. He winced at the feeling of cold, hard rock underneath his already wounded body. It was highly uncomfortable, but nothing could be done about it. He closed his eyes and forced himself to think of tomorrow.

They would finally be out of the maze, safe and away from the Grievers.

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Thomas woke up to the sound of muffled and peaceful humming. He blinked jadedly before his vision cleared, and his confused eyes settled on the unexpected source of said humming. "Minho?" he managed to croak, his voice hoarse. God, he sounded like he had a sore throat.

The black-haired male instantly shut up and turned to face him, the usual smirk enhancing his facial features. "Morning, Greenie," he greeted, giving a swift salute.

"Did you…" Thomas swallowed painfully, ignoring the burning sensation in his throat. Having not drunk anything in a while, he was beginning to feel thirsty. "Water… Please."

Minho simply nodded before helping the brunet sit up, handing him their only water bottle after fishing it out from his bag. "You can drink it all," he mumbled, waving his hand a bit dismissively.

Thomas brought the bottle up to his lips and drank most of the water, leaving the rest for Minho. He held it in front of the latter, who instantaneously shook his head. "Quit trying to play the tough guy," he mumbled, looking unimpressed. Did he think drinking a bit of water would mar his pride or something? Just how proud _was_ this guy?

"I'm not thirsty."

Of course he would say that. "Shut up and drink it. You don't need to try and impress me."

Minho's eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. "The shuck would I be trying to impress you for, Greenie?" he demanded, appearing somewhat mortified.

Thomas shrugged and shoved the bottle toward him again. "Drink it," he insisted. "You need it, shuck-face." That last word didn't sound so foreign anymore; it felt just right on his tongue.

The Asian male shook his head slightly as the usual smirk reappeared on his face. "Alright," he said, grabbing onto the bottle and draining it.

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Whatever. Let's get outta here, Greenie."

With his incredible sense of direction, Minho took the lead as he pulled the brunet along with him throughout the maze, and it wasn't long before the two of them finally managed to reach the gate. They were left panting and breathless as their eyes settled upon its hulking size, willing for it to open up.

"Finally," groaned Thomas, subconsciously gripping onto Minho's arm when a powerful gust of wind rushed past them from behind, and a thundering roar ricocheted off the walls as the gate began to open in front of them. They both let out huge sighs of relief, Thomas' eyes widening as they saw a small boy at the gate, jumping in what seemed to be excitement.

It was Chuck.

"THEY'RE BACK!" Chuck shrieked, his voice cracking with disbelief as he waved his arms around gleefully. "Thomas and Minho are back! They're _back_!"

It all happened so quickly. In a sheer matter of seconds, numerous Gladers had crowded around the gate with Chuck, either cheering wildly or standing frozen in shock. Various comments aimed at them were being thrown all around.

"Come on and get here, you bunch of shanks!"

"Hurry up already!"

"We thought the Grievers got you!"

Minho smirked as he trudged forward, raising his hand up to show that, yes, he really was alive. And so was his fellow runner. The cheering reached a deafening crescendo as the two boys stepped out of the maze and into the Glade, finally returned. Multiple arms were thrown around them as screams and yells of joy erupted into the air, but Minho held up his hand again to silence the boys. "Alright, that's enough right now," he started, cocking his head to the side a bit. "Where's Jeff? And Clint, I guess?"

"They're both still inside, Minho!" Chuck answered right away, his big eyes overflowing with curiosity.

The Asian male merely nodded, but widened his eyes when an arm shot out and grabbed his own. He looked up to see that it belonged to Gally.

"Where the shuck were you?" demanded Gally, sounding angry but looking worried.

"Chilling in the maze," replied Minho sarcastically, making all the other Gladers explode in laughter.

Gally wasn't amused by this. His countenance darkened as his glare landed on the brunet, who was laying his head against the black-haired male's shoulder. His eyes were closed as if he were asleep, and his breathing came out somewhat labored. "What's up with the newbie?" snorted Gally, grabbing Thomas' chin roughly and jerking it from side to side as he searched his face, causing the latter to hiss in obvious pain. "What's wrong, _princess_? Am I hurting you?"

Minho growled low in his throat and pushed Gally's hand away, causing most of the Gladers to choke out or gasp in surprise. "Lay off and slim it," he warned, his eyes narrowed. "His head shucking bled yesterday and his right ankle's gone straight to Hell, so shucking lay off for once, you shank."

One of the Gladers whistled mockingly and Gally's head immediately snapped in his direction, before he shot him an intimidating glare. Alby unexpectedly appeared from the crowd and stood in front of said Glader, sending Gally a warning look as if to tell him not to cause any trouble. Gally scoffed and pushed past the crowd before storming off heatedly.

Alby stepped forward and clutched Minho's shoulder, before nodding appreciatively at him; he did the same to Thomas. "I knew you would make it back," he said with a faint smile.

"Obviously." Minho shrugged to himself, before clearing his throat. His eyes began to search the crowd. "Where's Newt?" he asked, smirking proudly as a familiar blond straight away emerged from the Gladers and stepped up to him.

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Newt, his eyes large with anxiety as they examined the brunet. "You alright there, mate? You look, uh…dead."

Well, that was one way to put it. Thomas managed a smile as he glanced up to meet the blond's eyes. "I'm alive," he confirmed, his smile widening. "I'm okay."

A smile also found its way onto Newt's face as relief shrouded his features. "Good that!"

"Come on," murmured Minho all of a sudden, rewrapping his right arm around Thomas' waist to support him. "Help me take our newbie to Jeff."

Newt complied instantly and slung one of Thomas' arms around his own shoulders, before nodding his head at the Asian male to show that he was ready.

The three of them easily managed to make it to Jeff, with Chuck and a few other Gladers curiously following behind them. Minho and Newt laid Thomas down onto one of the beds, taking extra caution with his head and injured ankle.

"Thanks, you guys," breathed out Thomas, before swallowing and closing his eyes. "Seriously, you've done more than enough."

"No way, mate!" Newt blurted out, grinning as he sat down next to Thomas. "We've barely done anything. I mean, there's still so much to do!" He glanced down at the brunet's ankle. "Your ankle's uglier than Alby's face right now, Greenie."

Minho chuckled and Thomas grinned at that comment as the other Gladers laughed, but they all froze in place as somebody loudly cleared their throat from within the crowd.

"Who're you calling ugly?" came Alby's voice.

Newt turned around nervously to face him, holding his hands up defensively. "I was just kidding, mate!" he said with an innocent smile. "Just a small joke, yeah?"

Alby raised an eyebrow and shook his head, but made no further comment.

Newt shrugged and turned back to the brunet on the bed. "How're you feeling, Greenie?" he asked with a smile. "Ready to faint?"

Thomas smiled back as he kept his eyes closed. "Not really, but I sure am tired. Sleeping sounds like heaven right now."

"You aren't hungry, then, mate?"

Thomas' eyes snapped open as he stared at the blond in shock. "I am!" he said immediately, eliciting a few laughs from the Gladers. "I completely forgot about food… Like _God_, what is food?"

Newt chuckled and stood up, crossing his arms over his chest. "Tell Frypan to make something for our runners Minho and Thomas here," he ordered while turning to face the group of Gladers. Two of them ran off to do his bidding.

Minho sighed heavily and went to sit down on the bed next to Thomas. After a while of staring down at the floor in thought, he glanced up at the group of boys around him. They looked back at him inquisitively, and he smirked. "Who's ready for a story?" His smirk only widened when the Gladers cheered and howled in approval. Of course they wanted a story. "The story of how Greenie and I survived a night in the maze a second time."

The cheering amplified and Minho couldn't help but find it amusing that the sleepy brunet was clearly getting bothered by all the commotion.

* * *

**I'm so freaking tired. What is life? What is school? Geez, school sucks. I shouldn't have even brought that up. Screw school! :P**

**Anyway, until next time! ...Which will probably be after a long time. XD**


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